Page 31 of She's My Kind Of Rain

I reach for my phone to send her a text, anxious that running up to her door may make me look too forward, and honking may make me look like a jerk. Before I can open a message to her, the passenger door swings open—scaring the shit out of me—and I look up to see her beautiful face beaming back at me. A warmth washes over me that only she seems to bring.

“So, where are you taking me today, Mr. Sawyer Mason?” she questions in the sweetest voice.

I focus on her for a moment, deciding that it only feels right to throw caution to the wind and give this everything I’ve got. Leaning across the center console, I grab the side of her neck with my hand, guiding her lips to mine. Our tongues meet, a gentle caress right before we separate, and a smile returns to her face.

“Telling you would only deviate from the excitement, so saddle up, Miss Daisy, you’re in for a treat.”

I have no plan, but she doesn’t need to know that. I had asked about next weekend so I had time to think of a good date, and hadn’t really considered seeing her again this weekend. I drivefor a few minutes, my eyes focused on the road, but my mind is working in overdrive. What do people do on dates during the day? Mini golf seems lame and so does going back to the park. I rack my brain for ideas until we pass an ice cream truck, and I notice her stare at it with wonder in her eyes. Does she just love ice cream that much or has she never seen one? Taking a chance that she really likes ice cream, I whip a u-turn and put the car into park.

“First stop,” I say, trying to sound a bit more confident than I am in whatever the fuck I’m doing today.

“Does someone you know live here?” she asks, turning her head toward the house I parked in front of.

“Uh, no.” I grab her hand and lace my fingers in hers. “I said you were in for a treat, that’s the first treat.” I point toward the ice cream truck on the other side of the road and a little squeal rises out of her.

“You have no idea how much I wanted to ask you to stop when we drove past, but I figured you might think it was stupid. I haven’t ever seen one before.” Her fingers squeeze and release in my hand, her excitement not even slightly hidden.

We each land on a soft-serve cone, and, just as I suspected, she chooses something bright and exciting like her personality—lemon—while I get something classic and dependable—chocolate.

Our fingers intertwine once more and we start to walk in the opposite direction of my car.

“So, why chocolate? They had so many flavors I could barely decide, and without hesitation you chose chocolate.”

“I knew I’d like it.” Her question isn’t weird, but sort of funny. I never even considered another flavor once we’d made it up to the window to order. “Why lemon?”

“It sounded fun, but not too out there like guava or pb&j,” she says with a shrug while licking her ice cream. “Why not lemon for you?”

“It sounded like it might taste like a cleaning product.”

She bursts into laughter. “Happy to report it doesn’t.”

“Me too. But now you can see why I stuck to what I know.” I grin and give her a wink, taking a final bite of my ice cream as she does the same.

“Yes, but if you always did that there would be no adventure, and where’s the fun in that?”

I stop dead in my tracks, releasing her hand to turn towards her. “Seems to me the fun’s all right here.” I cup the side of her face and give her a delicate kiss, followed by another, this time with a bit more intensity.

Something about being with Daisy feels lighter than any other relationship I’ve been in—if you could call them that. Most of the girls I’ve dated were so focused on where the relationship was going, rather than letting it organically go anywhere at all. The constant pressure of being someone’s forever without the desire to be, ultimately made me decide it was best to just be casual. But she’s different, she brings joy and zero pressure to every situation thus far, and I know that life isn’t always easy—and that this is early—but it feels like it would be easier with her than without her.

20

DAISY - JUNE 26, 2004

Our date progresses,not a moment that isn’t fun or easy going, and for some reason that gets me in my head. I shouldn’t be thinking of previous relationships, but life has done nothing but prove to me that it’s filled with let downs. I’m used to the build up, the first moments being wonderful and then the shift in how bored a man becomes being with someone like me. Someone career-driven and still hung up on a loss that I should, as they’ve said,be over.

I do my best to shake this feeling, trying not to sabotage a good thing, but with this thought brings another and another. It’s not like I went into every relationship thinking that it would be awful or end in heartbreak. I assume no one really does, but this time that realization feels so possible—probably thanks to my calloused heart—and I hope that I’m wrong.

I silently ponder my thoughts as we drive out of town and turn down a road with a sign that reads Harper River State Park. After parking in a small lot near the entrance, I consider mentioning that I’m probably not dressed for hiking. Sandals and a mini-skirt aren’t really great for that, but, well, we’re here already and I’d rather do something outdoorsy than be in the city.

“I can’t imagine you’ve been here yet.” Sawyer looks over to me as we round the front of his vehicle, kissing me when he reaches me.

I take his hand in mine, lacing my fingers with his, and choose to ignore my earlier doubts, because for once I just want to be in the moment and not put pressure on what could go wrong.

“Nope, but I love going on walks, so this is right up my alley.” I smile at him, and we head down the closest trail until we meet a fork in the road with a sign that leads two directions. We take the path that reads Hidden Lake, and I wonder how something could be considered hidden if it’s literally labeled.

The further we get down the trail, the more I regret my outfit choice. I’ve been consciously shifting my skirt the entire time, and flip-flops—though cute—are nearly the most impractical footwear for a hike.

We trek down toward an opening in the trees. Sawyer stops just before the clearing and turns to grab my hand, gesturing to be quiet. I comply, lacing my fingers with his as he leads me forward. His eyes meet mine and I try to disguise my worry of this ending with another broken heart, and even more so, ending because of my job—hoping that this is amething and that this isn’t all too good to be true.

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